Sanchez studied Roper’s face before running a hand over Roper’s battered eyebrow. “I know. You are so much like my Adele. Headstrong. Tough. Single-minded. Dog on a bone. You will die for something you believe in and you will not go down without a fight. I can see it in your eye.”
This brought a painful smile to Roper’s lips, which split a bit with the effort.
Sanchez patted the blood with a napkin. “My Adele would have fought too, but she would have done it so she could…” Sanchez paused. “Oh.”
She stood up and looked around the perimeter, checking both ways before returning to Roper’s bedside. “I get it now. You planned this. You meant to get beaten this badly.”
Roper swallowed hard. She tasted the iron residue of blood.
“Let me ask you this,” Roper whispered. “What were you willing to risk to save Adele’s life?”
“Everything.”
Roper nodded. “My lover’s safety is the only thing I care about. The only thing.”
“I wish that were true, but it’s not, Roper. Not really.”
Roper tilted her head.
“You’d give your life for any one of those people who came in here with you. If you’re anything like my Adele, which you are, you’ll chew your arm off to get out of here.” Sanchez walked over to a filing cabinet and pulled out an envelope. She handed the contents of the envelope to Roper.
Roper looked at the key in her hand and then looked up at Sanchez. She was a remarkably beautiful woman with a rare and genuine smile that lit up her whole face when she gifted it to you. Her Adele had been a lucky woman.
“They’ll know you gave this to me. It’s too risky.” Roper tried to hand the key back to Sanchez, but she wouldn’t take it.
“I can make it look like you overwhelmed me, tore your hand up getting it out of the handcuff, and bolted.”
Roper closed her fingers over the handcuff key in her palm,. “It’s too big a risk, unless,” Roper sighed. “Unless we transfer the risk back to me and I know exactly how to do that.”
Dallas heard the door open and steeled herself for what was coming. She didn’t expected more than one man, but when one hand clamped over her mouth, another grabbed a breast, and two more grabbed her ankles, she knew this was going to be awful.
Worse than awful.
“You scream, bitch, and the pain you’ll bear witness to for days and weeks after will break you. Break you. Do you understand?”
Dallas nodded. Her heart banged in her chest as she grit her teeth.
When her mouth was free she said, “I’m not the screaming type.”
“Then you’re smarter than your sister. I hear tell Clint hammered her pretty bad.”
Dallas turned her head to the side as they fumbled to remove her pants. She would have to go to her happy place if she was to survive this. Her happy place was a beach in the Caribbean with Roper laying next to her reading a book and drinking a drink with an umbrella.
Even her happy place couldn’t hold her attention. Opening her eyes, she saw the room was dark. She could barely see the men, but she could just feel their clumsy hands groping her as they pawed at her clothes.
She had already decided not to fight. She needed to be physically healthy if she was going to get everyone out of here alive.
It was just her body, after all. It had served her well as a college athlete, fire fighter, and zombie hunter. This…this was just a detour…a blip on her radar that she would not only get through, but rise above.
What was the saying? What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger?
Bullshit.
What doesn’t kill us, we will kill. What doesn’t kill us should have. These men might get their jollies off, but she would beat them in the end.
It was all about the end game now.
Dallas closed her eyes. She tried not to feel the two rough hands squeezing her tits like they were milking a goat.
“Come on, Champ, get it up already.”
“I’m tryin’ man. It’s just—I don’t like fucking in the dark.”
Dallas shook her head at how pathetic they were. She’d tried giving a blowjob once. She’d met a guy in a bar at a time in her life when she thought life had to be easier as a straight woman. She took him home and after they made out, he whispered he wanted a blowjob. She thought she’d gotten off pretty easy with that—after all, how hard would it be?
So he’d unzipped his pants and as she took his dick in her mouth, he said, “What the fuck are you doing?”
She looked up and said, “Giving you a blowjob?”
No one had ever told her that you take the dick like a missile pop and not like a piece of corn on the cob.
The thought made Dallas chuckle.
“You laughing at me, bitch?”
Dallas shook her head. “No. Did you want me to?”
One of the men climbed on top of her and was trying to enter her when shots were fired and an alarm sounded.
“Fuck. Come on, Champ. Time’s up.”
“Ah man, I just got hard. Gimme a second.”
“We don’t have a second. This could be a drill or it could be somethin’ big. Come on.”
Someone pulled Champ off of Dallas. The door opened and they left leaving Dallas with her dignity still intact.
Dallas stood, pulled her jeans back up and slid her feet into her boots vowing she wouldn’t sleep without them on again.
She pressed her ear to the outer wall. There was commotion outside she hoped like hell wasn’t a drill. Closing her eyes, she prayed it was help coming to get them because she wasn’t at all sure how much longer she would be able to keep Cassie from the test.
“She ran that way,” Sanchez yelled, holding her bleeding nose with one hand and pointing with the other.
One of the guards followed her finger toward where Roper was climbing over the fence.
Sanchez realized too late that she had come out yelling for help too soon.
The guard fired once and Roper fell on the other side of the fence, landing hard on her back.
“I got her!” the young guard said. He started to go after her when Sanchez fainted at his feet.
“Ma’am?” He knelt down and saw the blood all over her face. “Oh man. Help! Someone help over here!”
The camp burst into chaos. An alarm was sounded, people were running every which way; some were lighting more torches while others gathered a search team.
JB was barking orders, and men began falling into squads.
Once they opened the gate up and hustled outside, JB paid Sanchez a visit. “What happened?” he asked as he surveyed the mess Roper had made of the infirmary.
The bed was overturned, the file cabinet was on the ground, and there was blood on the floor.
“It was my mistake, sir. I thought she was still out. When I leaned over her, she head-butted me.”
JB looked at Sanchez’s nose. “Looks broken. She busted up Clint’s nose the same way. You did a good job setting it for him though. Will you be able to do the same for yourself?”
Sanchez nodded, still holding a bloody towel to her nose.
“Then what? How did she get out of the handcuff?” JB knelt down to examine the handcuff and found skin and blood on the cuff and the bed.
“The cuff wasn’t on tight enough. My first mistake.”
“Did you put them on her?”
“No sir. Clint did.”
“Then it’s not your fault.” He rose. “You alright?”
“Hurts like a son of a bitch.” Sanchez lowered the bloody towel. “I’m really sorry, sir.”
“No worries. She won’t get far in the dark.” JB started out the door. “I’ll have one of the boys come help you clean the place up. Get yourself cleaned up as well and be ready for her return, if she lives that long. That little filly has played on my last nerve.”
After JB left, Sanchez looked in a mirror, held her breath, and readjusted her nose with a crack that made her knees go weak.
She
liked that woman with the brass balls and spine of steel. She was so much like Adele—so convicted. She hoped there was enough distance between Roper and the men behind her. If there wasn’t, Sanchez was certain she would never see Roper alive again.
Butcher, Wendell, and Hunter unpacked the plane and carried everything into the ranch house. Once they were set up, they made sure the place was secure and clear. Over dinner, they devised a strategy for the next morning.
After dinner they were quiet. Butcher was grieving the loss of Colby and she was fairly sure the others were as well. It had been awhile since they had lost any of their own.
Standing at the living room window, Butcher felt the sadness well up in her heart. He’d been such a good guy and loyal friend. He deserved a better fate than to end up like one of them. Maybe in the end, that’s how they all would end up. Maybe bringing Egypt into this mess was cruel and irresponsible. Maybe they were trying to push water uphill with a broom.
Egypt.
Butcher didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that her maternal instincts were busted. She wanted to be a good mother. She wanted that innate connection, but it just wasn’t there. At all. A small part of her thought Egypt might be better off without her. Luke was a great dad. He was present and nurturing, reducing himself to baby talk when alone with their daughter. Butcher just didn’t have it in her, and that royally sucked. For everybody.
Butcher thought those feelings would appear once Egypt was born. So far, they were on vacation. She was broken, she supposed, and there seemed to be little she could do about it except move on and deal with the reality that she was a terrible mother.
At least she wasn’t a terrible friend.
Now, she needed to focus on finding Dallas and Roper. If anything had happened to them, Butcher wasn’t sure she could go on. They were her source of strength, and when she was with them, she felt like they could do any—
A zombie leapt at the window, his torn nails clawing at it.
“Jesus,” Butcher said as she jumped back.
“I need to clear them out, Butcher. I think it would help if you wouldn’t stand in front of the largest window in the house.”
Butcher nodded and then watched as Hunter walked out on the porch and stuck his knife into the eyes of three zombies.
“Sorry,” she said when he came back in.
“Come on. Let’s sit on the kitchen floor. It has good light and they can’t see us.”
Wendell was laying on the floor, his head on a pillow, his arm draped across his face.
“Tomorrow, we can recon,” Hunter said. “How’s your neck?”
“Fine.” Butcher had found gauze and tape in the upstairs bathroom and fashioned a patch for herself that Wendell taped on.
“You bled a lot. You should be resting.”
She fingered the bandage Wendell had applied. “I wish I could. I wish my mind would rest, but I can’t. Not until I know they’re okay.”
Hunter laid his bow across his lap. “You know, I’ve seen lesbians be tight, but I don’t get it with you three. I mean, you’re straight and everything, but—”
“But what’s the connection?”
He nodded. Wendell rolled over once and propped himself up on his elbows.
Butcher sighed.
“There are very few people in your life you can be one hundred percent yourself in their presence. That requires a kind of trust that is rare. I trust those two with my life and the life of my child, and I have no doubt they would come after me if the roles were reversed. Baby or no baby.”
Neither man said anything for a moment, and then Hunter asked, “Are you in love with one of them?”
Butcher chuckled. “Dallas and Roper? Everyone asks me that. No.”
“Oh.”
“I’m in love with both of them.”
“Wait.” Wendell sat up. “I thought you were straight.”
Butcher took his pillow and laid down. “I am. My love for them is one of the great mysteries of the universe. Now get some rest. We’ve got some asses to kick tomorrow.”
Dallas turned the bed over and pulled out one of the box spring wires. She worked it around until it came loose and then yanked it free. Once it was straightened, she could drive it into an eye or use it as a garrote.
It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing.
She put the bed back where it belonged and slid the wire under the mattress just before the door opened and the light was turned on. JB threw a pile of clothes on the floor but did not enter the room.
“I’m afraid this is all that’s left of your sister.”
Dallas slowly got out of bed. The clothes were Roper’s and they were soaked in blood and torn apart.
“No. No. No. No. No.” Dallas fell to her knees and touched the clothes. They were cold and damp, the blood not yet dry. “What happened? What the fuck happened?”
“She got out of the infirmary and was shot trying to escape. They found these a couple of blocks away. We figure she got eaten by them things.” JB shrugged. “She passed the test, but since she was shot, maybe it was her blood they were attracted to. Beats me what happened.”
Dallas separated the clothes. Roper’s shirt, t-shirt, and jeans were there.
“Where are her boots?”
“Boots?”
Dallas rose. She left the clothes on the floor with what was left of her heart. “Never mind. It’s not important. How could you let this happen?”
“She ran, Miss Dallas. That sister of yours was one headstrong filly, that’s for sure. In the end, her stubbornness cost her her life.” JB bent over and picked up the clothes. “Let this be a lesson to you and yours, Miss Dallas. It’s safest here with me and my people.”
After the door closed behind him, Dallas started straightening the wire. If Roper was dead, Dallas would make them pay. If she was still alive, as Dallas suspected, then Dallas needed to be ready to move everyone out as quickly as possible.
She shook her head as she looked down at her boots. A zombie wouldn’t have taken Roper’s boots because a man eater wouldn’t have eaten her to begin with. Wherever those boots were, was where Roper was.
Of that, Dallas was certain.
Early the next morning, Butcher was packed and ready and waiting for the guys to finish their weapons check. Her neck was sore. Since the undead could smell blood, she needed to clean it before they moved out.
“Okay,” Butcher said as the guys finished up. “We’re just doing recon on the area today. See where we can punch holes in their defenses. Unless we see an opportunity we can’t pass up—like an immediate rescue, we are only on a fact-finding mission. The worst thing we can do is let them know we are out here.”
Hunter looked at his watch. It was a Tag Heuer he had taken off a dead guy. “If Luke left at dawn, they should be here before dusk. We’ll have a good lay of the land by then.”
Butcher said nothing.
“Butcher?”
“I wasn’t planning on waiting for Luke.”
Wendell and Hunter exchanged glances.
“Umm. Okay. Why not?”
Butcher turned to them. “Luke will be coming with at least three Hummers filled with some of our best fighters.”
“And?”
Butcher double checked her sidearm. “Sounds like those guys managed to get our Fuchs, our best vehicle, without much effort.”
“They have a tank,” Hunter said. “A tank.”
“Exactly.” Butcher stabbed at the air with her finger. “And that tank would have no issues taking out three of our Hummers. We need to put it out of commission before my man runs head first into it, which he is likely to do.” Butcher’s eyes scanned both of their faces. “Look, I’m not planning on going off half-cocked, but we need to recon the area and figure out a way to take the tank off the playing board. We’ve got nothing that can defend against that.”
Wendell nodded. “She has a point. Unless we can get in, decommission it, and then get out in time to tell Luke wh
at’s going down, they may very well end up with all our vehicles.”
Butcher grabbed her backpack, pulled out her machete and started out the door. “And we’re not going to let that happen, are we?”
“No, but these guys are pretty heavily armed and we, well...” Hunter held up his bow.
“The hunky silent type might be just the ticket we need. A little quiet attack. Take out their big shooters if we can. But let’s get our bearings first.”
The sun hadn’t come up yet, but there was enough light to see the zombies coming toward them.
“I can’t believe there are so many wandering around,” Butcher said. “It’s so strange that they aren’t clearing them.
Hunter nodded. “We’re going to see a whole lot more man eaters here than we’re used to seeing because of the population density of the area and the fact that the eaters know lunch is right behind the fence.”
Wendell, poured a little of his water on a washcloth from the pantry. “With zombies out here, folks are more inclined to stay inside. It’s the only reason for letting them live, and to be honest, it’s a pretty wise move.” Wendell pulled Butcher to him and started wiping the caked blood off her neck. “We need to get this cleaned up and bandaged again.”
“Make it fast,” Butcher said.
“We recon the area, see what we can do about the tank, and—”
A strange whining sound caught their attention.
“What in the hell?”
“Is that a chopper?”
Butcher stood back from the open front door while Hunter, wielding two machetes, whacked the heads off the incoming zombies. When he was done, they grabbed their gear and started walking.
“I don’t see anything,” Hunter said.
“Keep your eyes open, guys. This day just got hairier.”
They’d walked about five miles without hearing the sound again, and before they knew it, they’d reached the shot up bus.
“We’re going to need to head up to the ridge line,” Hunter said. “There are less eaters up there and we can get a view of the surrounding area.”
Riders of the Apocalypse (Book 3): Eat Asphalt Page 11
